


Crush

by bloodandcream



Series: 20114 N. Howard St [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dean Has a Crush, F/M, Fluff, Neighbors, Sam is a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6379465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matters weren’t made any easier when Dean kept running into Jo with his little brother tagging along. Sam was basically a barnacle. They’d help Pam and Jo carry a ‘new’ couch upstairs, Dean ran into Jo in the hallway on trash night a few times and offered to take hers down for her. Cookies pretty much seemed to be the currency between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush

It feels like it’s been a long battle, and Dean knows that he has plenty more uphill work to do, but standing in front of the ugly red brick apartment complex that’s his and Sammy’s new home – it feels like victory.

He’s been working his ass off for a year, since he was eighteen, to get custody of Sam and get him out of the foster system. It’s meant busting balls to get his GED, working long hours at Bobby’s garage to save up then getting a second job when he realized that wouldn’t be enough, finding a place for them to live, endless forms and meetings with government people who ‘only want the best for Sam’. But goddam, he’s got his brother by his side again and a key to their new apartment and things are looking up.

20114 N. Howard St, Apartment 3B.

Okay, so the place is kind of a shit hole. It’s technically a two bedroom – Dean couldn’t get away with a one bedroom even if he was sleeping on the couch, no, it had to be a two bedroom or he wasn’t ‘fit’ to take care of his brother – but the room Dean’s got for himself is barely wide enough for a twin mattress. He rigged it up on a high wood frame and put his dresser under it. It works. The kitchen is a tiny galley with an open row of counters to the living room/dining room area. The carpet is stained and pilled, the walls are scuffed, the appliances are from a different fucking century.

But it’s theirs.

-

“Son of a bitch….”

Sam babbles on about school behind Dean in the tiny entrance area to the apartment complex. The doors don’t lock, anyone can come and go as they want. There’s a wall of mail boxes to one side, a ‘community bulletin’ cork board on the other wall, stairs down to the basement apartments and up to the rest. No elevator. And the fucking mailbox keeps sticking.

It’s all probably junk in there anyway.

Sam’s going on about his new school and this pretty girl in his advanced science class who’s super smart and Dean’s trying to listen but he’s gonna pry the fucking face off the mail slot if it doesn’t open.

A slim blond woman and a curvy brunette come in, the brunette with dark sunglasses over her eyes, the blond wearing a tight white tee shirt and ripped jean shorts. Christ, they’re both fucking hot. Dean’s yet to meet most of his neighbors, but if they’re all like this, then this apartment complex is much nicer than Dean thought. A good view counts for a lot.

The blond slides over. “Ungh, is your mailbox sticking?”

“Yeah,” Dean smiles at her, holding out his hand which she takes in a firm shake, “I’m new here, Dean.”

“Jo, I’m up on the fourth floor.”

The brunette pushes her sunglasses up and eyes Dean head to toe like he’s a steak, “I’m Pam.”

From the corner, Sam rolls his eyes, “I’m Sam, not like anyone cares, nice to meet you.”

Pam laughs. Jo crouches in front of the mailboxes and peers at the one Dean is trying to pry open. From the back of her tight jeans she pulls out a little lock pick and in a few seconds the mailbox pops open.

“There you go.”

Dean stares at his box, stares at Jo’s slender fingers tucking her pick back in her pocket, wonders what else she’s got in there. “Thanks.”

Tossing long wavy hair over her shoulder, Jo smiles at him, “No problem.”

Dean watches after them as they head to the steps, Pam slapping him on the shoulder as she goes, “See you later boys.”

-

Days start early to get Sam fed and off to school. Where their apartment is located is technically close enough to the high school that they aren’t in a bus area, but it’s right on the edge and there is no way Dean’s sending Sam on a forty minute hike through their fucking neighborhood. Dean gets the first shower, makes breakfast, packs lunches for the both of them. Sam reads through breakfast and checks his home work.

It doesn’t take long for them to fall back into a routine with each other, despite the year apart. Dean’s still a little worried that Child Protective Services will take Sam away if he doesn’t prove to be a responsible enough adult, but Sam is all confidence and happy to make the best of the situation even though he’s been uprooted and moved to a new school.

Walking through the cracked and pitted parking lot behind the building, Sam still has his nose is a book when Dean sees their neighbor Jo kneeling by her shitty rusted out Corolla. Smacking Sam on the shoulder, Dean tosses him the keys to the Impala and says, “Hey Sammy, gimme a minute.”

Sam looks up, rolls his eyes, but he takes the keys and wanders away.

Hair tied up in a messy ponytail, long jeans and a plaid shirt tied around her waist, Jo is cussing up a storm as she works the nuts off a flat tire with a tire iron.

“You want some help with that?”

She scowls up at him, “I don’t need help changing a goddam tire.”

Dean holds his hands up, “Whoa, just trying to be nice.”

Jo huffs and stands, kicks her flat tire. “This fucking lot is littered with broken glass and nails and shit, this is the third flat tire I’ve had this year!”

Dean glances to his poor Impala and winces, “Shit.”

“Goddamit, I’m gonna be late for work.”

“Come on, I actually work as a mechanic, let me help.”

Jo rolls her eyes at him, “Seriously, changing a tire is easy,” moving around her car she pulls the jack out of the trunk, “but…. If you want to, my car makes this godawful screech when I start it and I think the belt needs changed.”

“I’ll take a look.”

Popping the hood, Dean rummages around as Jo finishes loosening the nuts and getting the jack situated. He lets the hood down when she needs to put the car up. “Yeah, the belt looks ready to snap, I can change that tonight, if you want.”

Grunting as she works the jack up, Jo pauses to look at him, assessing, before she nods. “Sure, that’d be great, actually. How much would it be?”

“You don’t have to pay me anything.”

“At least for the parts.”

“I’ll bring you a receipt.”

Prying the tire off, Jo props it to the side and hefts up the spare donut she had resting next to her. “You got a deal.”

-

After changing the belt for Jo and checking her car over more thoroughly, she had invited him up for coffee. Dean wasn’t too sure if it was meant to be code or if she was gonna actually put on for coffee – and he really, really wanted to find out – but he had to grab a shower after a long day at the garage before going to his night shift job. So he politely declined, and Jo thanked him again.

The next morning, Dean near tripped leaving his apartment with Sam because there was a towel covered plate sitting on the floor in front of their door. It was stacked high with home made chocolate chip cookies and a note from Jo. Dean stuffed his face with two of them on the stairs down to the parking lot, and Sam snagged one for his lunch bag.

Dean couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off his face for the whole drive to school that morning, and Sam cackled at him for it.

-

Matters weren’t made any easier when Dean kept running into Jo with his little brother tagging along. Sam was basically a barnacle. They’d help Pam and Jo carry a ‘new’ couch upstairs, Dean ran into Jo in the hallway on trash night a few times and offered to take hers down for her. Cookies pretty much seemed to be the currency between them.

Now, Dean wasn’t the sort of guy that had a hard time picking up chicks. Lately his style was cramped with working sixty hours a week and taking care of his little brother, but a quick fling here and there would be easy enough to pull off. The only problem was, he didn’t really want to just have a quick fling with Jo. He actually kind of really liked her. It made him stumble over his own words and blush, mortifying enough on it’s own, but absolute fodder for his little brother to make fun of him.

Dean had just retreated not so gracefully back to his apartment to lick his wounds after he and Sammy had run in to Pam and Jo in the hallway. And Dean, well, Jo was wearing this thin white tank top and her headlights were on full force and Dean could swear she wasn’t wearing a bra… long story short he ran into the banister post and crushed his own nads.

Sam was going red in the face from laughing so hard as Dean nuked left over spaghetti, nursed his wounded pride, and held a bag of frozen peas over his junk.

Once Sam had caught his breath, he started up with, “Dean and Jo sitting in a tree…”

Dean scowled, probably not looking too menacing holding peas on his crotch, “For fucks sake, Sammy…”

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G-“

“How old are you again?” Dean asked as he plunked two plates of day old spaghetti on the coffee table where Sam had collapsed on the couch, book bag on the floor, shoes kicked off.

Sam cackled like the immature teenage shit he was, “Dean’s got a cruuuuushhh.”

“The only crush I’ve got is the crushing weight of my responsibilities. And you can help with that by eating your fucking dinner, doing your homework, finishing your chores and going to bed. Capiche?”

Seriously, was Dean that much of an asshole when he was fifteen? The answer is yes. But seriously. Fuck Sammy. Dean does not have a crush.

-

It was a rare Friday night that Dean didn’t have a shift working his second job stocking overnight. He liked to spend what precious free time he got with his brother, and with his mattress. But Dean was torn, a few weeks ago Jo had extended the offer to hang out during their regular ‘parking lot burn barrel’ parties that they put on most Friday nights when the weather was good.

The sky was clear and bone dry all day. So it was going on late, almost eleven, Dean had gotten dinner in Sam, vacuumed, took a shower. He definitely didn’t spend ten minutes picking out the right shirt that wasn’t so frayed it looked like it belonged to a hobo and wasn’t in perfect condition so it looked like he was trying too hard.

And he definitely did not have styling gel that he was currently standing in front of the mirror tousling his hair with.

Sam pushed open the bathroom door and rolled his eyes, “Dude I gotta piss.”

“Give me a minute.”

“You’ve been in here like an hour.”

“No I haven’t.”

Sam sat on the toilet seat lid and Dean pushed his hand through his hair again. There. No, no that was too messy. Pushing his hands towards the middle he spiked it a little. Rinsing his hands off, Dean leaned against the vanity.

“You sure you don’t want to come down?”

Sam waved him off, “I wanna finish this book report.”

“It’s Friday night, you got all weekend.”

Sam looked down at his toes curling against the linoleum and picked at the hem of his shirt, “I might um, be hanging out with Jess tomorrow. If she texts. I just want to have everything done already.”

“Seriously? All right, go Sammy.”

Sam shoved him, “Shut up.”

“You know I got work all afternoon, but if you text me where you going and when you’ll be back, you’re a free man, go as far as the buses will take you and spread your awkward little chicken wings.”

Sam shoved him harder. “Get out of here.”

“All right, all right. I’ll just be downstairs, come get me if you need anything.”

“Uh huh. Can you leave already, I really do have to pee.”

Dean left Sam to it, grabbed a six pack from the fridge, and locked the apartment behind him. The parking lot burn barrel party was already in full swing for not even midnight. The back of the asphalt lot bumped up against a wooded ravine that people basically used as a dump site. But the strip of dead grass between the ravine and lot was scattered with plastic lawn chairs and bench seats from old cars, big wooden industrial spools used for tables, a few burn barrels roaring.

Mingling through the crowd and stopping to chat to everyone, Dean had met most of his new neighbors in passing but hadn’t had more of a conversation past ‘hello’ and ‘bye’. In the open space in the middle a few people were dancing, someone had an honest to gods boombox blasting Beastie Boys.

Dean saw the lesbians from the basement, Ruby and Meg, grinding up against each other. He spent a few a minutes catching up with Andy, before finding his ways to the coolers. Ash managed the coolers, taking Dean’s six pack and adding it to the mix before passing him a beer.

Gabe had some kind of drinking game going on at one of the spool tables, it looked like it was a mystery shot spin the bottle deal. Dean passed it up in favor of sitting on a truck bench seat off to the side where it was quieter. He was looking for a certain blond.

Instead, the hippy who was running the roof top garden sat down next to him.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas right?”

“Yes. How are you?”

“Pretty good.”

Cas nodded, and hummed. He had a joint pinched in two fingers, turned to offer it to Dean.

“Nah, thanks man. Random drug tests with CPS, I can’t partake.”

Cas nodded, hummed again. “You take care of your little brother, Sam, correct?”

“Yeah, yeah he’s a pain in the ass but he’s a good kid. He’s really going places.”

Turning full to face Dean, half of his face lit up with fire light, Cas looked at him dead serious and said, “You’re going places too Dean. Even when you feel you are standing still, you’re moving with the universe.”

And Dean, he did not know what to say to that.

But then Jo was there, pulling Cas up from his perch, snagging his joint to take a hit and giving it back to him. “Don’t scare Dean away, Cas, this is the first time I’ve seen him out here. Go say hi to Pam, she’s got something for you.”

“The only thing she gives me is ass pinchings.”

“Exactly.”

Cas wandered off and Jo took his place sitting next to Dean, two beers in her hands. She held one out for him. Dean drained the last of the one had and accepted. “Thanks. Cas is uh, pretty intense isn’t he.”

Jo rolled her eyes, “That’s a nice way of putting it. You should hear him, Ash and Andy arguing about the ‘nature of existence’. They don’t quit.”

Dean tipped his head back and laughed, unconsciously shifting a little closer and leaning a little further towards Jo. Slinging an arm over the back of the bench seat, Jo scooted closer too.

“Besides,” she said, “I wanted to get you all to myself.”

“And what do you want to do with me,” Dean smiled as he reached up to brush her hair out of her face, tuck it behind her ear, “all to yourself.”

Jo licked her lips, bright eyes shining in the firelight and she was close enough to feel her breath. A small warm hand settled on Dean’s thigh, then moved closer, then abruptly reached up and grabbed his wrist as Jo stood, pulling him up. “I want to dance!” she yelled over her shoulder as she tugged him towards the open space.

Dean shouted, “Sweetheart, I don’t dance!” even as he followed her.

Both still cradling their beers, Dean getting one arm around her waist, Jo swaying completely out of time with the music, Dean might not be much of a dancer but Jo clearly wasn’t either. It was still nice, dancing with a pretty girl always is. But Dean wasn’t used to being so… wrapped up in someone else’s presence. He didn’t hear the music much, or see the people moving around them. He had tunnel vision, fixated on the way Jo’s face moved when she smiled at him and how her cheeks pinked and the way she wrapped her lips around the beer bottle.

Jo was watching him too.

Dean leaned in, close enough to talk quietly over the noise. “It’s a little crowded out here, isn’t it.”

Jo smiled at him and leaned up on her toes to speak close to his ear, one of her hands braced on his waist. “Sorry, sweetheart, you’ve still got a lot of ground to cover to first base.”

Dean was good with that. He was crushing hard.


End file.
